A Novel Dishonor
by davewriter
Summary: FANFIC COMPLETED! When Leslie Janes, a good friend of Bulletproof and the other C.O.P.S., learns that his cousin Benjamin is coming to Empire City to promote a policethemed novel, he becomes very excited. The C.O.P.S. show interest, too, but what do th
1. A Surprise for Leslie

Disclaimer:I don't own the Cartoon C.O.P.S. or ANY of its maincharacters, (that would be DIC studios, and Saban Entertainment, I believe), nor amI making any profit off this. I am just postingthis story for entertainment, and for all the fans of this hot sci-fi crime cartoon that appeared in the 80's. (Too bad it couldn't hold a candle to Ninja Turtles... LOL!) The only characters I have of my own are Leslie Janes, (my protagonist, writtenin his POV, and in 1st person - a rarity on this site, I've noticed) his older brothers, Doug and Randall, their cousin Benjamin, Leslie's filmco-star, Molly, and his agent/manager, Jill. Please read and review, and I hope you like it. Thanks! :>)

A NOVEL DISHONOUR

_Chapter 1_

"And, cut it! That's was perfect!"

I took a harsh breath, like I've been keeping it in too long, and started walking towards the movie director. "Thank God!" I moaned. "We've done this stupid beach scene, like, a million times!" It was summer, very early in the evening, and my friend and co-star, Molly Lansing, and I had just finished shooting one of those scenes at the beach for a teen-based romance. For a scene that guarantees only five minutes of screen time, it took us all afternoon to film. And it was so hot! I could scarcely concentrate in this heat; we both goofed up a fair bit. But what _really_ bothered me was that there was only one camera, and the director insisted on shooting us from _every single angle_. That's one of the more annoying things about doing a movie. You can never get a scene done in one take, even if you go through the whole thing without screwing up.

The director followed me to a table. "Oh, come on, Leslie Janes!" he scowled. "You're a show business veteran! You should be used to this by now!"

I opened a new bottle of water and took a swig. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I'd _love_ to track down one of my brothers and ask him to pick me up a burger and a soda. I'm dying of both hunger and thirst." Both of my older brothers, Doug and Randall, are police officers here in Empire City. Law enforcement is a big, important tradition in my family; Doug and Randall are sixth generation cops.

Oh, you probably want to know a little bit more about me, and why I didn't become a cop like the rest of the family. First, the cop thing. See, I've lived with cerebral palsy since birth, and there's no way I'd be a successful police officer, even if I went to the academy. I'd probably do all right on the written part of the exam, but with my limitations, I'd flop out on the physical part. Everyone in the family knew this. So, whenever my father was teaching his sons about good police work, he'd leave me out of his lectures.

My mother has been working in theatre for over thirty years now. When I was a child, she'd have me put on one-man skits to entertain at family functions. As I grew older, I would do comedy routines and dramatic readings at the annual Empire City policeman's ball, and charitable functions my parents were involved in. At eleven, I was discovered at a cystic fibrosis fundraiser, doing a one-man rendition of the battle scene in _Peter Pan_. Jill McKinley, my agent and manager, liked me so much, she talked to Mom about putting me in a new Broadway play called _Little Matchmaker_, which Mom helped produce. You've probably never heard of it. I played the son of a unlucky-in-love single mother, who goes in search of a perfect mate for her. It's a hilarious play. It ran for about twenty shows, but it got me noticed. Soon, I was getting tons of offers for movie roles. About a year later, I acted in my first feature film, _Sgt. Jackman's House_. I played a teen that ends up in a police family after his late parents forgot to mention him in their will. It was a heartwarming drama, and critics nationwide praised my acting talents. I even won a Golden Globe. Suddenly, I'm a "teen heartthrob," one of the hottest young stars, acting in the leads of many teen and family-based movies. And here I am now, twenty-five years old, producers still lusting after me, while I divide my time between Hollywood and Empire City.

But it's not all fame and glamour for me. Besides the endless shootings and retakes, and two to three hours of sleep per night, I also have to spend hours upon hours studying my lines and cues. With my cerebral palsy, I feel like I have to commit whole scripts to memory, just so I don't forget anything. It's really tough work, kind of like studying for final exams.

Anyway, so after I drank a whole bottle of water, I screamed at Jill to give me my cell phone. "I want to call headquarters and ask Bulletproof where my damn brothers are!" I told her. "I want them to bring me some food and a drink. I'm _starving_!"

She went to a nearby table and handed it to me. I dialed C.O.P.S. headquarters, thinking, _It'll be so wonderful to talk to Bulletproof._ I know that he was partnered with my father when he first joined the police force some years ago. Dad was his mentor, and Bulletproof became a friend of our family. I was always the polite, outgoing one in the family, great in meeting other people, so he took an instant liking to me. I remember opening night of _Little Matchmaker_, when Bulletproof showed up with my whole family. Afterwards, he told me himself that my performance was, "better than anything you did at our policeman's balls." Now that's total fondness. That's how I became friends with the other C.O.P.S. that Bulletproof put on his force later on. I met them through him and my brothers while working in Empire City. I make sure I don't go twenty-four hours without talking to them or my brothers, no matter where I am. Thank God my cell came with a cheap minutes deal.

I heard Bulletproof answer on the other end.

"Bulletproof, it's Leslie!" I said. "Listen, I need to talk with Doug or Randall, please."

Bulletproof grumbled loudly. I rolled my eyes. "Sorry, I mean Roughneck and Aquayouth."

He put me on hold and I rolled my eyes again. This is the one thing I'll never understand about Bulletproof, his fetish for code names. I don't know what he was thinking when he was giving his men and women code names, even Doug and Randall. Doug's code name is "Roughneck," because of his really aggressive nature when apprehending criminals. Randall's code name is "Aquayouth," because he's famous for two things: deep-sea rescues and cases involving children. When I'm talking to, and in front of, Bulletproof and the other C.O.P.S., I have to refer to my own brothers by their code names. And they _despise_ me calling them by their real names, even though I know what they are. For example, I know that Mainframe's real name is Off. Tina Cassidy. One time, while serving her croissants and coffee, I called her Tina just to see what she'd think. She threw her coffee onto my shirt, started screaming and cursing at me, and ended her rant with, "You call me 'Mainframe!'" before ordering another cup. Another time, I went up to Mace, this bloody massive dude, and called him by his real first name, Colt. Swear to God, I thought he was going to kick my ass. He grabbed my shirt, threw me up against a wall, and threatened to "knock my brains out" if I didn't call him Mace. I don't want to _think _about what would happen if I called Bulletproof, "Baldwin." And yet, Doug and Randall don't let me call them by their code names when it's just me and them. If you ask me, I think that's stupid. Luckily, I can tell between their two voices over my phone.

Doug had answered.

"Doug, this is Leslie," I said. "Listen, are you and Randall going on break or off shift soon? I was thinking maybe we can go out for dinner."

"Yeah, actually our shifts are almost over here," Doug replied. "How about some pizza?"

"Love that!" I put him on hold and called, "Molly! Pizza?"

She was talking with the director, something about whether or not we have to come back later for more filming. (God, I hope not; I want tonight off!) So, I yelled louder, "Yo, Molly!" Both of them looked up. "Doug and Randall are taking me out for pizza? Are you game?"

Molly smiled. "You bet." I smiled back, and asked if she could join us. Doug said yes.

"Great, so we're leaving the beach right now, and we're near Empire City Park," I told him. "You want us to come to headquarters, or are you picking us up?"

"Don't be silly, of course we'll pick you up," Doug said. "Just find a park bench in an area where we can find you. We'll swing by in about ten minutes."

"Great, see you!" I hung up and took Molly's arm. We ran to the other side of the park and sat at the closest bench to the playground.

Five minutes later, we saw a police car drive up. It had to be my brothers. I was right; the driver's window rolled down to reveal Doug's arrestingly handsome face, or so his wife always says. It makes me think he could pass for Mace's brother.

"Hey, Doug. Hey Randall," I smiled. Randall leaned forward a bit in the passenger's seat to smile at me. Molly and I got into the back and buckled up.

We arrived at Toretti Family Pizza on Malone Avenue. I noticed that Doug and Randall were grinning and talking amongst themselves the whole way there. Obviously, that meant good news; perhaps our relatives were coming to Empire City. But the only times the whole Janes family gets together are special family events and police conferences. And I'd never learned of either one that was coming up. Still, they wouldn't tell me until we were inside the restaurant and seated, no matter how much I prodded them.

When we sat down and received menus, I gave my brothers a patient, yet unnerved look. I said, "All right, you've been chatting and keeping me on edge for this long. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

"There is," Randall answered. "We got a personal call from Cousin Benjamin at lunch today. He's flying in from Miami tomorrow to promote his first novel. There'll be a book signing party at the Empire Bookstore on Saturday afternoon."

Cousin Benjamin is our Dad's younger brother's son. He's the only other member of our family to not go into law enforcement, besides me. See, Uncle Matt's wife died almost twenty years ago, he never remarried, and Ben is his only child. He never wanted Ben to be a cop because of how dangerous it is, and Uncle Matt worries about outliving him. So, Ben chose a writing career. He got his first job writing for a Miami newspaper at age sixteen. He writes these stories about police, peppered with a lot of action and awesomely believable dialogue and cop lingo. Many of the short stories he wrote in college got published in his local Sunday paper. I knew that he'd been working on a novel lately, but he never told us anything about it, except that it was about, "a really hot-looking plainclothes cop who's a real lady-killer." Still, he's only twenty-seven. Most writers don't get first novels published until their thirties, or even forties.

"Really?" I asked. "He must have been working on that for about a year or so. God knows how he's been living all that time, where he got his money."

"I'm happy for him, but I'm worried about him coming to Empire City," Doug said. "Why, by the time he leaves, he'll be more famous here than Bulletproof and the rest of us." We all laughed.

Minutes later, the waitress came to take our orders. Molly and I ordered a Hawaiian pizza, while Doug and Randall ordered a meat lovers' one. While we waited, my cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Leslie, hi, it's Jill," the voice said. "Listen, the movie's going to be put on hold for a while. The director's going to be flying to San Francisco tomorrow."

"Is anything wrong?" I asked.

"His mother was admitted back to the hospital," she explained. "Apparently, her heart has given out. He's worried she might go any day now, so he's going to be with her and his family."

"Oh my God, that's terrible. Does anyone else know?"

"He's told a few other cast members, and the whole crew knows about this. He told me to tell you."

I was speechless for a few moments. Then, "Well, tell him that Molly and I send him our love and prayers." When I hung up, I told everyone about the director's family crisis. My brothers were just as speechless as I was. Molly was shocked and saddened.

Our pizzas came. As I ate, I was thinking about what an opportunity this was. I was sorry for the director, but with the movie on hold during Benjamin's visit, I could probably spend some time catching up with him. Maybe I can even read his book before the signing. I was already eager to find out what it was like.

So what does everyone think? Yeah, I know some of the narrartion rambles on, but it really sounds like Holden Caufield, a la _Catcher in the Rye_, don't you think? Again, please read and review, tell me what you think, etc. Chapter Two is in the works as we speak, and I will be putting it up following this one. Enjoy, everyone! Peace!


	2. Meeting Benjamin Janes

Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own C.O.P.S or any of the show's syndicated characters. I'm just posting this for any the fans of this rockin' 80's show. Please read and review, and I hope you enjoy it

_Chapter 2_

I was staying with Doug while filming my movie. Shortly before lunch the next day, he and I drove to the airport to get Benjamin. I hadn't seen him since last Christmas, when my mother and I flew down to Miami to stay with him and Uncle Matt.

We ate in the airport, then stood outside the baggage claim waiting for him. Shortly after two o'clock, we saw a tall lean figure, brown hair with the tips dyed blond, with an excited-looking grin. Benjamin. After we hugged, he looked at us and said, "I suppose Randall is at the ol' 'bear's den' watching out for hookers and thieves, as usual."

"Afraid so," I replied. "He left at seven this morning, and won't be off until later this evening."

Doug checked his watch. "And I have to be at work at three," he added. "I'll take you to my place, and you and Leslie can hang out, Ben. I'll tell Randall you're here, and tell him to go to my house when he gets off."

"Oh, no need," Benjamin assured. "I've got reservations at the Manifesta Hotel. I'll keep Leslie until Randall can pick him up."

Soon, the carousels began to activate and bags started coming out. Doug and I were helping Benjamin look for his luggage. After we got the suitcases, we saw four cardboard boxes with his name on them. "Are those copies of your new book?" I asked.

He nodded. "Twenty books for each box." I helped him retrieve the boxes. God, but they were heavy. Benjamin would need a luggage cart to carry them to the car.

Doug dropped me and Benjamin off at the Manifesta from the airport. We helped him bring all his things to his room. Before Doug left, Benjamin opened a box for two books and showed them to us.

I read the title aloud and whistled. "_Passions of the Junkyard Dog._ I like this title."

Benjamin quickly autographed the copies for both my brothers, and gave them to Doug. He thanked him and said, "Ben, you should come by the headquarters tomorrow. I'm sure Bulletproof and the others would love to meet you."

"Oh, I'll be busy all day until Saturday," Benjamin said. "Maybe if you or Randall are on shift tomorrow night, I could come by. Just tell them that they're all invited to the book signing at the Empire Bookstore."

"Will do. See you." Doug left, closing the door behind him.

When we were alone, I started looking around the room. It was a very spacious two-bed suite. (I guess all the one-bedders were all booked.) There was an awesome desk with a glass top, and see-through drawers with golden knobs. I told Benjamin, "That'd be perfect for you to plug in your computer, and work on your next piece."

He laughed. "Unfortunately, I won't have much time while I'm here."

Next to the desk was an entertainment center with a 24-inch TV, remote control, DVD player, and stereo system. I turned on the stereo. Rock music was playing. I wanted to turn it up, but I noticed the rules on the door. Excessive noise was prohibited, so I turned it to an easy-listening station. Benjamin and I sat down on the waterbeds. It was so warm and comfortable, I lay down. I was bobbing up and down, feeling relaxed. It sure took away all the tensions from yesterday.

"Oh, I LOVE this!" I said exasperatedly. "Can I stay with you for the night?"

"Do you have $350.00?" Benjamin asked. That changed my mind.

He looked in the drawers between the beds and took out a room service menu. "How about a little treat before dinner, on me?" he offered.

"Sounds good," I answered. "I'll have a chocolate chip muffin and a diet Pepsi."

He dialed room service and took my order. He ordered an apple turnover and fruit punch. While we waited, I said, "So, Ben, you haven't told much about your book. What's it all about?"

"Oh, Leslie, I know that you, Doug, Randall, and all your little cop friends are going to love it," he answered, grinning. "It's about this tough, yet tender plainclothes policeman, Johnny Willis, also known as 'the Junkyard Dog.' On the police beat, he's known for rough style when apprehending criminals. But when he's off duty, he turns into this loving sweetheart whom women just adore."

"Plainclothes," I repeated. "I imagine his choice of attire also plays a part in his attracting women."

Benjamin nodded. "Extra large tank tops with blue jeans, loafers, and a trucker's cap. He's got biceps so big, virtually no police uniform can fit him. Why, he'd just rip the sleeves when he flexed his might. He does that to show the criminals who's in charge."

I groaned. "I'm jealous already. I'll _never_ get to be like that with MY cerebral palsy! I guess that what makes all the girls want him."

Our room service arrived soon enough. Benjamin paid for it and gave me my muffin and soda. As I ate, he continued, "But what the ladies love the most about the Junkyard Dog is his caring attitude towards children, especially his own two sons. He's a single dad, too, which he sees as a plus." He took a bite of his turnover. "See, the book starts of when his wife is diagnosed with cancer and learns she is dying…"

I stopped him. "I'll read the book for myself, thanks."

At quarter after five, Benjamin took me to the Woodhouse Room. It's a family restaurant located at the hotel. I've never been there before, so I looked around at the décor. Silver wallpaper with gold and bronze stripes on the top half of the walls, and cherry oak on the bottom half. They could've put something nice in the middle to separate them, like a railing. Above all the tables against the walls were oil paintings of major world cities – London, Paris, Tokyo, and all else. There were windows at the farther end, but you could barely see anything out of them. They were all stained-glass, like the ones in a church, but with pictures of Empire City instead of all that religious stuff. On the ceiling were lighting fixtures shaped like stars. I thought that looked awesome.

"This sure does look homely," I said as we sat down at a window.

Benjamin ordered shepherd's pie. "A friend of mine that stayed here told me it's the best thing they have," he told me. That convinced me to order the same. But when the waitress took our order, she recognized me and cried, "Oh my God, you're Leslie Janes! The movie star! I've seen almost your movies!" She couldn't be any older than nineteen, and obviously a fan of teen movies. Of course, everyone heard her, and they suddenly left their tables to get my autograph. I gave her my order while autographing her uniform.

"That's funny," I said when they all left. "When I went out for pizza yesterday, the most I got were a couple of teen girls at a table near us, pointing at me and gabbing."

Benjamin sighed. "I'm a published author now. How come everyone looked at me like a regular guy?"

"They won't after this weekend. At this time next week, people will be saying, 'Oh my God, you're Benjamin Janes. I just think _Passions of the Junkyard Dog_ is an _awesome_ book! I just _have_ to have your autograph. When's your next book coming out? I want to read that, too!' That's what people will say."

He smiled. "Thanks, Les."

"Do you remember when you were twelve years old," I asked, "and you told my Dad you were serious about being a writer? You and Uncle Matt were here for Thanksgiving, and you showed my parents a twelve-page short story that you wrote."

"Uncle Francis didn't read it!" Benjamin replied, disgusted. "He tore it out page by page, started yelling at me to stop being so foolish, then he got into _my_ Dad's face. I believe his exact words were, 'Discipline that boy properly, Matthew! He doesn't have CP like Leslie! Send Benjamin to the police academy and make him a cop!' Then he started preaching all that stuff about family pride and tradition. Of course, Dad refused, saying he'll be damned if he loses his only kid to the crime-ridden Miami streets."

I frowned. I remembered Dad dismantling Benjamin's story, but I totally forgot the fight he had with Uncle Matt as a result. He was so disgusted, they left a day early. They made up when Uncle Matt called to wish me a happy birthday the following year, but he never visited my father again.

"I still can't believe Uncle Matt stayed away from here until it was too late," I said. "I remember when I was fifteen, and I was staying with you guys in Miami while I was doing _Quarterstalk_. We were three months into filming when Doug called, telling us that Dad had died. Sudden heart attack. I still remember how Uncle Matt acted the whole time he was here for the funeral."

"I'd never seen him cry like that since Mom died." Benjamin took a drink of his Dr. Pepper. "Still, it was stupid of you to dedicate that movie to Uncle Francis. It was about a pro quarterback who's stalked by a woman who claims he's the father of her son, for God's sake. You played the protagonist's biggest fan who defended him!"

"Two things, Ben," I replied. "One, I couldn't go back to work for two weeks after we returned. I think I called Bulletproof about fifty times for comfort. God knows what would've happened to me if _he_ wasn't at that funeral! Two, I played a policeman's stepson in that movie. Dad would've _loved_ my performance!"

When our food arrived, we started reflecting on happier memories. Still, I couldn't believe this one embarrassing memory Benjamin insisted on bringing up.

"Do you remember when you were nine years old, and you spent the whole summer with us in Miami?" he asked. "Remember that hot summer day when my Dad was mowing the lawn in a speedo, and you came up and poked him in his belly button while he was watering?" He was laughing and whooping, slapping his lap.

I slammed my hand on the table, giving him an evil look. Nobody outside the family ever knew about that. I looked around to see if anyone was listening. They weren't, they were just eating and having their own conversations. Thank Christ! I don't like being laughed at, stared, and whispered about in public.

"You _swore_ you'd never bring that up ever again!" I whispered spitefully.

"Oh, come on!" Benjamin scoffed. "Dad said it tickled, but he never minded. And your parents sure had a hearty laugh about it."

I took a forkful of shepherd's pie, chewed and swallowed. "My brothers called me 'belly button boy' for a whole year! How would _you_ like me to tell everyone about the time at the beach a few days later? We had sodas with ice, and you went up to a woman in a one-piece swimsuit, and put your ice down her back!"

He nearly choked on his bite but managed to swallow. "I almost got grounded that time," he growled. "After that, I _made_ you keep that a secret."

We ate two more bites of our dinner in silence, then he asked about the movie I was working on.

Back in the hotel room, the phone rang. Benjamin answered it.

"Of course Leslie is here," he said. "May I ask who's calling?… Oh, hi, Randall. This is Ben."

They chatted for a few moments while I got myself ready. Obviously, Randall was calling to say he was picking me up. When I had my shoes on, he handed the phone to me.

"Leslie," he said to me, "I'll be at the hotel in just a few minutes."

I noticed that Benjamin had another copy of his book that he was autographing for me. "Do you want me to meet you at the lobby or outside?" I asked.

"Nah, Ben already gave me the room number, so I'm coming up there," he said.

"Where are you right now?" I asked.

"At Doug's place, packing an overnight bag for you. You'll be spending the night at my place, all right?"

"Yeah, that's cool." Doug's wife is a nurse at the Empire City General Hospital, and with her working a double shift tonight, I guess he didn't want me going back to the house being so empty.

I said goodbye to Randall and hung up. Benjamin gave me my own copy of his book, and I opened to see the autograph. I read aloud, "To my cousin, Leslie. You have been my inspiration forever and always. Love, Benjamin." I smiled at him. "Nice. Did you write this in Doug and Randall's copies?"

Benjamin nodded. He pulled out eleven more copies and autographed one for Bulletproof. "It'll be nice to see him Bulletproof again," he said. "I haven't seen him since Uncle Francis' funeral."

"How many copies are you going to display at the signing?" I asked.

"My publisher wanted sixty-five, but I requested some extra copies so all your friends can read it." He gave me Bulletproof's copy and opened another. "And what are the names of the other guys he hired?"

"Highway, Longarm, Hardtop, Mace, Mainframe, Bullseye, Mirage, Bowzer, Sundown and Barricade," I answered.

Benjamin feverishly autographed the rest of the books. I noticed he was writing the same thing in all of them. When he had two more copies to go, we heard a knock. "That's Randall," I said. I opened the door and let my brother in.

I picked up six autographed copies, and asked Randall to carry the rest. Before I left, I said to Benjamin, "If I don't see you again before Saturday, see you at the signing." He smiled and replied, "See you later."

Outside the hotel, I put the books in the back seat of Randall's police car. I got in the front and buckled up. Minutes later, I saw Randall putting the rest of the books in the back seat. Once he got settled, we were off to his place.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it's coming slow, but come next chapter, it's all going to explode. Just wait until you read excerpts of Ben's book, and you'll see what I mean. Once again, please read and review, and Chapter 3 is on its way


	3. Leslie's Readings

**Author's Notes:** First of all, shout-outs to skyefire and ShadowHawk for giving me those great reviews (and how nice of skyefire to add this to her "Favourite Stories" list! kisses her cheek) Thanks for making a newcomer feel welcome. Yes, I think it's high-time that there was a section dedicated to C.O.P.S. fanfiction, too. I was actually quite surprised that there were no fics of this cartoonin the "Miscellaneous Cartoons" sub-category. Yet, I was also relieved, because I would've created this sub-category for nothing, and forced to kick my own butt... LOL!

Also, you'll know that I had to revise the summary. My original plan was to have Leslie accompany his copbrother, Randall to the briefing meeting at C.O.P.S. headquarters mentioned in this chapter. At the last minute, I decided that Leslie wasn't really needed there, and that Randall and Benjamin could handle this on their own.Did I make the right decision? Read, review and tell me.

**Disclaimer:** I told you this twice before, I don't own C.O.P.S., the animatedTV series. (that would be the talented folks at DIC Animation Studios) Actually, Leslie Janes and all members of his family are mine. Furthermore, I'd like to creditDIC studios for inspiring me to write this piece of fanfiction, because I was a fan of this series once upon a time, but I admittedly stopped for a while because I got tired of the re-runs. Now, there's a FanSite dedicated to show somewhere on the Web that got me back into it recently. Anyway, onwith the story.

* * *

_Chapter 3_

I sat in Randall's living room, staring at Benjamin's books for Bulletproof and the others. I was pondering about whether or not they'd be able to read it in time for the signing. I thought about their main enemies, Big Boss and his gang of crooks. I wondered what they were up to this week. If they were planning anything nefarious for Empire City, then the C.O.P.S. would be lucky to get through the first fifty pages.

I opened my copy to the very last page. It was three hundred ten pages long. As of tomorrow, the signing would be three days away. No problem, I'm a pretty quick reader when it comes to novels. I could do a hundred pages a day without any distractions. But if the crime wave in Empire City is the way it is with that Big Boss around, then Doug, Randall and the others wouldn't make time to read it. That could disappoint Benjamin.

I looked up at Randall. He was sitting at the dining table, staring at the autograph on his copy. "Problem, Randall?" I asked.

"I don't know about this book," he told me. "I mean, what if I start reading, and think it's just a piece of junk? What if we give Bulletproof, Longarm and the others their copies, they read it, and they hate it?"

"Oh, come on!" I laughed. "Then again, this could be a really good book."

He opened it to the first page and studied the text. "All right, I'll give this a chance."

I grinned, and had a thought. "Hey, do you know what's going on with Big Boss and his little gang? If they've got anything big in tow…"

"Actually, Leslie, we learned that cretin's been nominated for World Crime Lord of the Year, and they've all flown to England late this afternoon for a crime convention and awards ceremony," he explained. "Can you believe he _boasted _about this? So, unless we get complaints of street gang activity, prostitution or drug dealing, it should be a light week, crime-wise."

"They'll be back in America, imprisoned on the day of the signing, anyway," I replied. "Doesn't that always happen? Meanwhile, it'll give everyone time to read the book. We all owe it to Benjamin, right?" I took my copy and went to the guest bedroom.

I settled on the bed, opened my book, and began reading. The first paragraphs of the first chapter already had me with what I thought was a provocative description of the hero, Johnny Willis.

_The men and women of Miami's police force saw Johnny Willis as the toughest, most dedicated cop in the city, whom they said prided himself in his work. But all the non-police women who knew him saw him as only the sexiest man in American law enforcement. Standing six foot eight, and weighing four hundred ninety-five pounds, he spent most of his off-duty time bodybuilding and weight-training, which he'd been doing faithfully since he was five years old. His biceps were so big, he could rip the sleeves of the standard police uniform when he flexed. He had done that to three uniforms when he was first recruited. This is why he was placed in the plainclothes unit, and made to wear sleeveless muscle tops. Johnny didn't mind this, because it allowed him to choose tops with low necklines, so he could show off as much of his chest as possible. _

_But it wasn't just his chest that drew all the beautiful and sexy Miami women to him, for when he bared it in public, they would also touch his arms, his abdominals and thighs that felt like marble, his "outie" belly button that he got from all the working out he did. His shoulders and back had the strength of a team of oxen. His rear was chiseled, and his legs were just as muscular as his arms, but Johnny always kept them in a pair of blue jeans. His face was just as beautiful if not more so. It was a big, broad oval shape, with a wide chin that only enhanced its broadness. He had a large mouth and big teeth that helped show off a sexy smile, and put fear into anyone he gritted them to. His eyes were as blue as the bottoms of swimming pools, and his light brown hair was in the style of a military crew-cut. He kept both of them covered with dark shades and a trucker's cap, to make him look tougher when he was confronting suspects. Because of this look and attitude, he was nicknamed "the Junkyard Dog" by all who knew him._

Wow, so much graphic details. I couldn't tell if this was a police novel, or a sexed-up version of _Gone With the Wind_. I've always known Mirage to be a straight-laced, no-nonsense type of policewoman, but this would arouse even her into a romantic fantasy. I read over every description of Johnny's body, from the muscular arms to the beefed-up chest, from the ox-like back and shoulders to the military hairstyle. I started thinking about Mace. I'd seen him wearing nothing but a pair of shorts before, and with the exception of the blue eyes and crew-cut, Johnny and Mace's physical attributes were exactly alike. (I think Mace has brown eyes, and I know he wears his hair a bit longer than Johnny.) I wondered if Mace would be able to see himself in Johnny "the Junkyard Dog" Willis.

I shook my head, clearing it of these thoughts. I decided to ask the C.O.P.S. about it when they had a chance to read it. I kept reading.

_Normally a happy and confident man, Johnny was feeling neither of this as he lay in bed one rainy April night in 2003. He had gotten home from working the day shift that evening when he saw his beautiful, yet fragile wife, Angela, sobbing on the arm of their loveseat. In one of the bedrooms upstairs, he heard their two sons, nine-year-old Shawn and six-year-old Hunter, crying louder than their mother. Remembering Angela's longtime job as a general helper at the restaurant pub they'd first met in, and the diagnosis tests she had been talking about the past week, Johnny quickly rushed over to her and fearfully asked, "Angela, my love, what did the doctor say?"_

_She looked at him with her tear-stained blue eyes, blue as a field of violets, as he stroked her dirty blonde hair, and whispered, "Lung cancer, Johnny. It's so severe. The doctor said I won't make it to the next Fourth of July. I only have two months."_

_It was as if Johnny witnessed his whole family being shot down by a whole street gang. He gripped his wife's hand tighter, gritting his teeth to show his bravery. He prayed that this was only a dream, but Angela's trembling, her fear of death completely obvious, proved to him she was indeed telling the truth. He was hearing the loud wailing of his younger son, and him screaming, "Mommy's going to die! Mommy's going to die!" Johnny abandoned Angela for only a few moments to find the bedroom their sons were in._

_He found both Shawn and Hunter sitting on the queen-sized bed in the room he and Angela shared. He didn't hesitate as he wrapped his arms around his boys, enveloping them in his muscle, allowing them to use his pectorals as comfort pillows._

How sad and tragic this was. This is why I'm glad smoking was banned in all public places in Empire City. But did Benjamin have to make this scene so dramatic? Doug and his wife have a six-year-old son together. If this had happened to Terri, I doubt she'd be this afraid and upset. I also doubt my little nephew would be crying as much as Shawn and Hunter. Even if this had happened to Longarm's wife, I'd think that whole family would be a little braver than this.

The whole first chapter focused on Angela's lingering death. It went on for fifteen more pages. To the reader who expects lots of gunplay and car chases, and angry tirades and physical fights between cop and suspect in police novels, all this would be horribly boring. But Benjamin had told me that Johnny Willis was a very dedicated husband and father, so I read through it.

It got really touching towards the chapter's end. Call me a total sap, but I believe Benjamin is really delivering on his promise for his protagonist, and the love and respect he has for his woman. And yet, as I read the scene where Angela was dying in the hospital, I never expected to see this:

_Slowly, she took his hand and said softly, "Johnny, I have told my family this, and now I'm telling you – I want you to find love again after I'm gone."_

_He snatched his hand away and covered his mouth. Just how soon after Angela died was he expected to remarry? Was this even right, his own wife telling him to love another?_

"_Angela, I love you," he whispered. He was tearful, with an unmistakable look of despair. "I've loved you from the first time I saw you. Do you remember my twenty-first birthday, when you gave me my very first beer? I told you of that occasion, and you gave me that smile that told me you'd never forget that date, and you've remembered it for the past fourteen years. That same smile you gave me on our wedding day, and when the boys were born, and when I saw you as I came through our front door coming home from work. I will never see that smile again, Angela. Never ever." Water began to form from his eyes like Niagara Falls. "And here, you're telling me to dishonor your memory?"_

"_Johnny, I want to look down from heaven and see you happy." Though weak, she still had the strength to wipe his tears away. "I want our sons to have a mother. You not only have the body to attract another woman, but you also have the heart. If you never loved me, you could have had any other woman you wanted. I know that."_

I swear I could've felt my heart flittering around like a butterfly in my chest. This had to be absolutely the sweetest request ever given to a soon-to-be widower. The end of the chapter was on the very next page, I noted, so I finished it. Tragically, Angela died the next morning, and Johnny was crying upon her body, which was covered by her bed sheets.

I thought about Doug. He was always the tough one in the family, hence the code name, "Roughneck." No way would he deal with any of this sappiness. I wondered how he would react when he sees Benjamin again. He'd probably call him a wuss. I sure hope not; all that sentiment has made me want to keep reading.

I put the book aside and went upstairs to see Randall. He was talking on the phone to Bulletproof, something about a special briefing meeting tomorrow morning. When he got off, I said, "Well, that's a first. One of Bulletproof Vess' men, calling a briefing meeting. Let me guess, it's about Ben's new book."

Randall nodded. "And so far, so good," he replied. "Although, I don't know about Angela's death scene, and what she told Johnny to do. I know of no wife who would say something like that to her husband as she's dying, at least not in real life. However, I think Bulletproof and the others would be interested in it."

"What time tomorrow morning is it for?" I asked.

"I called it for nine o'clock."

"Do you want Benjamin at the headquarters as a special guest?"

Randall nodded. "I'll give him a call." He picked up the phone again and dialed the Manifesta. I went back to my room, changed into my sleep clothes and got into bed. I checked the alarm clock. It was just past ten-thirty. I was guessing Randall wanted me up pretty early, so I set it for seven in the morning.

I picked up my book and read all of the second chapter. All it had was the bereavement and Angela's funeral, and Johnny's grieving process. I was picturing Doug, ol' Roughneck, when he saw Benjamin at the book signing. _"Benjamin, this is the wimpiest police novel I've ever read! You're much too feminine to be my cousin now!"_ I had read about thirty-three pages when I finished this chapter. It had to be past eleven already, so I immediately put the book away and fell asleep.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me at the C.O.P.S. headquarters with Benjamin there?" I asked. It was a little past eight the next morning, and Randall and I were finishing breakfast. He had told me about the meeting, that Benjamin had agreed to come, and that I was going back to Doug's house instead.

"Les, as much as we'd love to have you," he replied, "this really has nothing to do with you. Basically, Ben and I will be explaining the details of his book, and having Bulletproof pass out the rest of the copies. But Doug will be showing up for another night shift tonight, I believe, so I think you'll be going with him."

"That'd be great!" I hardly ever get to talk to Bulletproof and the others in person when I'm in Empire City filming my movies, maybe about thirty minutes during lunch break. It'd be nice to spend a few hours with them at the headquarters. Besides, maybe tonight, I can ask some of them for their thoughts on the book. I sensed some of them would have actually started it by then.

Whenwe arrived, we saw Doug's police car and Terri's car in the driveway. But when I walked inside and announced my arrival, I saw Terri in her nightgown. She looked tired.

"Rough shift at the hospital?" I guessed.

"It's stuff like this that makes me glad Bulletproof doesn't assign double shifts to any of _his_ staff," she answered groggily. "Damn, all the work can kill your back and feet." She leaned back a little, making that disgusting cricking noise. "Doug went to bed three hours ago, and I'm off to bed with him. Try not to be loud with the TV or stereo, okay?" She walked away, not even noticing my copy of Benjamin's novel.

_Try not to be too loud with the TV or stereo._ I went into the family room with no intention of turning on either one. As I relaxed on the sofa, I thought of Zach, Doug and Terri's son, who was at camp this whole summer. It was such a blessing. I love him, but I wanted to get some serious reading done, and no way could I do that if he was asking me to play with him all the time.

I opened my book to Chapter Three. If Johnny Willis' physical descriptions, and the loss of his wife were any indications, I'd guess this is where the book started to get a little raunchy. After all, how much sex can I expect from "the sexiest man in American law enforcement" who just became single again? Plenty, that's how much!

I wasn't all that surprised to see some sexual suggestions two pages into the chapter. I had just finished the scene where Johnny comes back to work after his grief period and gets his first assignment in two weeks. Those three sisters Benjamin had peering from the bushes outside the police station were evidence enough.

_Meanwhile, outside the station, the three Leahy sisters had been peering from the bushes, going undetected by any other officers, waiting for Johnny to come out. The two younger ladies, twins Diane and Dawnelle, were constantly enhancing their beauty by combing their strawberry blonde hair and adjusting their make-up, and making their green eyes even greener by switching their color contacts. It seemed that they'd wanted him from the first time they saw him, and had turned down every other man the whole time he had been married to Angela, only for him. Now that she was gone, they believed, Johnny was open and ready to give them a glance._

_Their older sister, Carolyn, was glaring at them from behind, all the while looking out for other officers. "For heaven's sake, ladies," she mused, "don't you have any regard for widowed people like Deputy Willis? I mean, the man's wife has just died. He could still be in mourning! Why take advantage of it?"_

"_Do you really think we give a shit?" Diane spat. "The point is, Johnny is single again and gorgeous as ever. If the sex is great, it just might lead to marriage. Think about it."_

As disgusting and disgraceful I thought this was, I thought back to what Uncle Matt had taught me about love and sex. I knew that he'd been in love with many beautiful women since Aunt Denise died. I don't remember all that much about his love life, but I'd never forget the lesson he always taught me: "There's no point in having sex if you are not in love with the partner you want to do it with." Perhaps he had taught this to Benjamin, too, and it had been worked into this novel.

Did Benjamin center Johnny "the Junkyard Dog" Willis around Uncle Matt? I knew Uncle Matt had been a middleweight bodybuilder, boxer and wrestler throughout his law enforcement career. But he was also active in the athletics department at a local youth center, "coaching all sorts of young kids into healthy, strong bodies," he'd bragged to Dad years earlier. But I don't think he was nearly as muscular as Mace, and I still believed Johnny Willis was Mace's double. I couldn't help but to think that.

I decided to forget it and keep reading. I had gotten to the end of the page when those twins had emerged from the bushes, tugging at his clothes and hitting on him. Skanky? Maybe, but otherwise, I thought these were good, innocent girls. Thank God their sister had the sense to pull them away to before any of his colleagues saw them. Hitting on a cop while on duty can get you arrested, prostitute or not.

All morning, the phone rang three times. One was from an insurance company, and I took a message for Doug and Terri. Another was from Molly, asking if I had heard from our movie director yet. I said no, maybe I should call Jill after lunch and ask for an update. A third was a wrong number. By the time I decided to make myself lunch, I had read the third, fourth and fifth chapters, witnessed many police confrontations and arrests, two romances and one dumping, and a couple of very detailed love scenes.

After lunch, and getting no word about the director's mother, (I was inwardly blessed; I wanted him to stay away until after Benjamin's big day), I resumed my reading. I know I should've been using this time to look over my script, but I just couldn't put this book down. The "Junkyard Dog's" well-active sex life was hot enough to have me reading every word about it – and this wasn't even a romance novel. _Maybe I should call Jill back, get the director's cell number, and give him a call,_ I thought. I wanted him to read this book, too. I was already seeing movie potential for this.

Yet, deep down, I wondered what the C.O.P.S. would think of all this sexual innuendo. Any dedicated police officer would either burn this book, or sell it to some horny sex freak. I didn't know about the others, but I could just see Bulletproof and Longarm blasting this in the media as, "a dishonoring embarrassment to the real men and women on the force nationwide." If Dad and Grandpa Janes were still alive and had read this – well, to paraphrase _The Catcher in the Rye_, they'd have two heart attacks apiece.

I read until three-thirty, when Doug woke up. He turned on the TV to a sports channel to watch some baseball highlights. I watched with him. After all, I'd read close to a hundred pages so far. I deserved a break.

At the commercial, I asked Doug, "Have you started on Ben's book yet?"

"I've started reading it at the station," he answered. He turned to me and asked, "Have you or Randall told Ben anything about Bulletproof and the other C.O.P.S. some time ago when he was planning this? Particularly Mace, because I swear Ben modeled this Johnny guy after him."

"Me too, but I haven't told Ben anything about your work," I replied. "I don't think he'd remembered anyone else besides you, Randall and Bulletproof. At the hotel yesterday, when he was autographing all those books, I was reciting all those other names for him, and he never said a word about it." I paused when I heard my favorite soda commercial come on. Afterwards, I asked, "How far have you gotten?"

"I started on the second chapter already. I hope that if Terri goes before me, she has that same dying wish Angela had. I thought that was so considerate."

I was surprised he didn't say anything on the sappy romance in general. But I wasn't surprised to see him not reading at that moment. He obviously didn't have enough energy. I wouldn't either if I had just woken up. At a little past four, we went in the kitchen to make dinner. Maybe he'd read some more while dinner was cooking.

* * *

I know, I know, no bigshocking blow-up yet, like I promised last chapter. But that would've required making the chapter longer than it already is. However, use these aforementioned excerpts of Benjamin Janes' book, and Leslie's thoughts as foreshadowing of what's to come NEXT CHAPTER. And this decision has resulted in this story having one more chapter than originally planned. Again, please read and review, and there's definitely more to come.


	4. Reviews By The COPS

**Disclaimer:** You know the story, I don't own C.O.P.S., though now I'm starting to wish I did, and yada, yada, yada. (By the way, is this REQUIRED of me every time I start a new chapter? I don't know, since this is my first fanfic story - ever, and with chapters - and I'm just taking precautions to avoid any lawsuits.) Anywho, here's chapter four and don't forget to read and review. Not to pressure people, but I don't think I have enough.

* * *

_Chapter 4_

That evening, shortly before eight o'clock, Doug and I went to the C.O.P.S. headquarters. I spent the whole drive just staring at the cover of my book. I figured that if Randall and Benjamin handled things quite well this morning, the C.O.P.S. would be reading the book in between assignments and paperwork. Just as we were about to go inside, we saw Randall park his car in his usual spot.

As he was getting out, I ran up to him and asked, "So, big bro, how'd everything work out this morning? How did Bulletproof and company like Cousin Benjamin?"

"He won them over easily," Randall answered. "When I picked him up, I told him specifically that I would do all the talking. But he insisted that _he_ wrote the book, so he would explain all the plot details, and told me just to introduce him. Sure enough, he gave an excellent presentation. I believe it was Mainframe who said…"

"Who cares who said what about Benjamin?" Doug interrupted. "Let's just get inside. I go on duty in only a few minutes and I have to clock in."

I was running ahead of my brothers. "Besides," I called, "I want to know what everyone thinks of the book. I'm dying of curiosity!"

Inside the headquarters, I did a quick scan around the desk area (as my mother likes to call it.) Hardtop and Longarm were at their desks, reading their copies of Benjamin's book, but the looks on their faces were rather indifferent. Mirage and Mace were reading, too, but they looked to be indulged in it. Barricade was typing up a police report while some teenage street thug was making a confession. And there was Mainframe, sitting at the crime computer as usual. She had her copy in front of her, but I could tell she wasn't concentrating very well. I'd caught her glancing up at the computer screen searching for any crimes detected. Funny, I didn't see anything on _there_. Oh, well.

I smiled confidently and greeted everyone. "Hello, officers!"

Everyone looked at me and smiled back. "Leslie!" Longarm noted. "It's so good to see you. So, how are things going with your movie?"

"Well, I'm sure I'll be by here more often for the next little while, while the filming is on hiatus," I answered.

"Really?" Hardtop wondered. "The director didn't quit, did he?"

"Nah, he just fled to the west coast to see his mother. Tragically sick, or so that's what Jill told me. She says the woman could go at any time now. If she does, which is probably likely, he could stay there for about another two weeks. Even when he does come back to Empire City, he'll probably be too grief-stricken to do any filming, which'll probably add another week. So, unless the movie company hires a fill-in…"

"I've never heard of a film company doing anything like that," Doug interrupted. "Maybe if your director got so grief-stricken, he couldn't finish the film, he could hire someone to take over."

"I don't think he'd do that," I replied. "The movie will be put on hold for three weeks, tops. Maybe even a little longer than that."

I looked around at the C.O.P.S. reading Benjamin's novel. "So, I see most of you have gotten into my cousin's book. I take it you guys have had a slow day today."

Barricade looked up from his computer. "Not that slow," he said. "We've had a couple of major drug busts down at the park, and we arrested an entire street gang attempting to rob an entire department store, and I've just brought in this little punkster whom I caught breaking and entering an apartment on 35th and Gleason."

"Still, we have managed to put aside time to do some 'assigned' reading," Mirage added.

"I was very impressed with your cousin's speech, Leslie," Mainframe called. "He was a very clear, eloquent speaker, and he gave some very interesting plot details. You should've seen how interested everyone was. I could've sworn Bulletproof wanted to peek in the book before handing them out to everyone."

I clasped my hands together. "Well, what does everyone think of it?"

"Oh, it's just awful," Hardtop complained. "It starts out boring and depressing, all this stuff about the wife dying, then it's so unbelievable. What kind of widowed man would fling himself into another relationship so soon after his wife dies?"

"Certainly not me," Longarm answered. "I would wait a year or two before getting back into dating."

"I take it most of you have skipped Chapter Two," I guessed. Everyone who was reading nodded. I looked over at Mirage and Mace. They were still reading as if they loved it, but after looking at them up close, it seemed as if they were forcing themselves to stay interested.

"Mirage, Mace, how about you?" I asked. "Your verdicts? Mace, could you see yourself in the hero, Johnny Willis?"

"Only physically," he answered. "First of all, these sexual descriptions of his body are totally uncalled for. And _what_ is with these tank tops he wears with his blue jeans? I mean, come on! If _I _were a plainclothes officer, I'd choose a button-down shirt with a leather jacket. I wouldn't wear stuff that'd make me look like a sex object!"

"Anything else?" I asked.

"This Johnny Willis guy may be a good cop on the beat," Mace said, "but he's also vain, hormonal, and a pushover for any woman he runs into. This, I don't like."

"I'll have to agree with Mace," Barricade said. "Cops don't normally act like that, whether they're on or off-duty."

I glared at Barricade. How would _he_ know that Johnny Willis wasn't acting toward standard police procedures, both professionally and personally? Had he even _started_ reading the book?

I turned to Longarm. "Ok, Longarm, speaking as a father, what do you think about Johnny's treatment towards his sons, Shawn and Hunter?" I asked. "After all, Ben _did_ set him up to be a credible, loving dad."

"I see that," he replied, "and I give both the character and novelist credit for this." I stood over him as he flipped back to the first chapter. He showed me a line that obviously touched him and read it aloud. "_He didn't hesitate as he wrapped his arms around his boys, enveloping them in his muscle, allowing them to use his pectorals as comfort pillows._" Longarm smiled at me. "That's so sweet. That's why I skimmed through the second chapter, to find any more references to Johnny Willis, the loving father. And I found quite a bit, especially during the funeral scenes. It makes me think of my own relationship with my son, Brian."

"Unfortunately, that's the only believable thing about this guy," Hardtop added.

I frowned. "Well, I'm sorry that most of you don't like it. I just hope that Benjamin can take it well." I started for Bulletproof's office. "I'll just go see what Bulletproof thinks of it."

"Wait!" Barricade called. I turned to see he had completed his police report. He handed it to me. "Since you're going to see Bulletproof, could you please take this to him?" I saw him take his hoodlum away to a cell. I took the report to Bulletproof's office.

I saw his door partially open, but I knocked anyway. "Bulletproof?" I called. "It's Leslie. May I come in?"

"Of course!" he called from inside.

I saw Bulletproof at his desk, reading Benjamin's book. I smiled as I gave him Barricade's report and said, "Ah, so you've gotten into the book, too." I walked up behind him to glance over his shoulder. I saw he was only on page sixty-two. He must have had a fairly good day dealing with the non-Big Boss-related crime, as Barricade had told me. Either that or he's a slow fiction reader. Oh, what am I thinking, maybe Bulletproof doesn't read fiction at all, kind of like my father was.

"How's that even coming?" I asked.

"Well, to be honest, I don't think I can get all the way through it," he said.

"You mean you don't like it, either?"

"Oh, it's just terrible," Bulletproof complained. "Judging by what I've read so far, it seems that Benjamin has focused too much on Johnny Willis' personal life, and not so much on his career life. This is not what I like to see in a police novel. Normally, I don't have a problem with reading about what cops do in their off-duty time, but there needs to be a balance between that and their police shifts. So far, I don't see a balance here."

"Well, I've read about a hundred pages so far, and I've seen some balance," I said. "Benjamin's just portraying 'the Junkyard Dog' as some kind of romantic. I mean, he's told me that, in addition to being a good cop, he's also an ideal husband, father and lover. I think that's an explanation for all the personal stuff."

"Ideal father and lover, maybe," Bulletproof argued, "but I don't know about 'husband.' That's another thing I don't get, Leslie. What kind of husband starts philandering like that so soon after he buries his wife? That's the most unrealistic thing I've ever seen."

"Well, Johnny's just so gorgeous, that women actually throw _themselves_ at him." I sat down in the chair across from Bulletproof's desk. "I think he's so taken by their beauty and charm, he's kind of blind to their taking advantage of his vulnerability."

Even with all my explanations, I was sure to read a not-so-great review from Bulletproof Vess in Sunday edition of the _Empire City Times_. I gave him Barricade's report, and said that I'd talk to him later. "I'm off to do some serious reading of my own," I said, then left.

I went to the interviewing room and sat in an empty chair. I'd be fine here as long as nobody brought anyone in here to yell at them about a murder case, or something. It's so quiet in that room when you're all alone, I've noticed. There's no way I could concentrate very well with any phones ringing and officers socializing.

I must have been in there for over an hour. I read about sixty pages. I really had no idea what Bulletproof was talking about when he said that Benjamin was concentrating too much on Johnny's personal life. I did see some chase scenes, and Johnny confronting suspects in the standard police procedure that Barricade said he didn't act in. There was even a dramatic part where he rescued a twelve-year-old boy from joining a gang. Oh, I just _had_ to tell Benjamin how much I loved _this_ part! If Doug or Randall, or any of the other C.O.P.S. did this, I'm sure that Commissioner Highwater would give them a hero's parade.

Of course Benjamin included some parts of Johnny's professional life. He just didn't include all those clichés you see in TV cop shows – cars flipping over during a chase, buildings being blown up, excessive use of nightsticks.

Soon, I heard someone sharply call my name. I jumped and turned to see Doug. He looked very cross.

"Leslie, I was looking all over for you," he said. "You know you're not allowed in here, right? This is for authorized personnel."

"Sorry, Doug," I replied. "I just wanted a quiet place to read, away from all the distractions."

"Well, we'd like you to do us a favor, please? Walk down to Sweet Marie's Donuts and bring back a three dozen party pack of assorted kinds."

I stood up and gave my brother a shocking glare. "_Walk_ down to _Sweet Marie's_? Dude, that's in another part of Empire City! You can't expect me to walk all the way there and back! Have you lost your mind?"

He gave me thirty dollars. "Three dozen assorted," he repeated. "And you can buy a little something for yourself while you're at it."

"All right," I said. I went to Doug, took the money, and we left the room together.

Just as I arrived at the desk area, I felt like I was missing something. Did I leave my book in the interviewing room? Ah, what did it matter? I had an important errand to run and from the looks of the C.O.P.S. (I'd noticed that Highway and Bowzer had just arrived) they were desperate for some donuts. I could get the book when I get back.

I stepped out into the streets of Empire City. Thank God it was yet another clear, sultry night. And with Big Boss in England, I wouldn't have to worry about Berserko or Nightshade, or any other of those creeps robbing me. And I knew where Sweet Marie's was, since it's the only donut shop in town that Bulletproof and the others will go to. (Their chocolate donuts are the best in the whole city.) Still, I couldn't believe the C.O.P.S. would have me walk all the way there. I could run into another gang and still get mugged. I could even be fighting off hookers. Why couldn't anyone have driven me?

It took me almost an hour to get there, minus the encounters with fans I happened to run into. Going in, I was thinking about how my feet were going to survive the walk back. By the time I'd get back on the street where the headquarters are, I'd be having corns, bunions and varicose veins. _Those C.O.P.S. had better having a massaging tub ready for me when I get back!_ I thought. Sweet Marie's was full that night, but thankfully, there was only one open cash register.

I should've been glad that the cashier manning it recognized me. But she was so bloody loud. "Leslie Janes!" she cried. Another fan. She was calling to the other cashiers and the rest of the staff. "You guys, do you know who's here? Leslie Janes, the movie star! And he's ordering something for his cop friends!"

God, did she have to announce my presence to the whole shop? Soon, everyone was staring at me, some even wanting my autograph. But I wasn't in the mood to do any signing then. Most celebrities, myself included, don't like being the center of attention in ordinary public places like this. Stuff like this could bring on the paparazzi.

I was concentrating on the donuts for my own order. "Uh, I'll have a three dozen assorted party pack, and for myself, I'll have a double chocolate dip and a medium cola," I told her.

She was tapping prices into the register, totaling everything. "The final total is $24.74, but just for you, Leslie, the boss wants me to discount fifteen percent," she said. "Your total is $21.03." I gave her the money and put the change in my pocket. Then, she made me wait while she put together the party pack. I looked around. Now everyone was whispering and probably gossiping about me. I thought this was totally humiliating. For this kind of attention, I was glad for that damn discount. I really did want to keep the change, seriously. And thank God nobody was asking about my movie. I refused to discuss it with anyone.

I couldn't wait for that pack of donuts to be ready, so I could collect my whole order, pay the girl, and get out of there. When she did, she presented a big box with the logo on it, a paper bag, and a plastic cup with a Styrofoam lid. I took a straw and jammed it right into the cup. I picked up my stuff and left the shop quickly.

"After an episode like that," I said to myself, "I expect ol' Roughneck and the rest of them to kiss my feet."

Sweet Marie's and the C.O.P.S. headquarters were in neighboring boroughs. Separating these boroughs was the ever so wide King Empire River. The bridge overlooking the river was as long as the damn Golden Gate. I had no problem walking across it to get to the shop, but now I had to walk across it carrying ten pounds of donuts and a quarter-liter drink. It's a good thing I have a strong right hand, or else I'd be holding the box all slanted. And I really couldn't have that, since I was on the part of the bridge which people rode their bicycles. I kept thinking about my donut and drink sliding off the box, over the railing, and into the river. Not only that, but my feet were starting to ache. I kept looking over at the traffic on the bridge. Any time a cop car wanted to stop and pick me up, it would be just fine with me.

I had just crossed the bridge and two more streets when a familiar vehicle drove up. One of those standard police cars, and the driver had lifted the top up. It was Hardtop, with a big cup holder carrying ten coffees in the passenger's seat. "Going my way, Leslie?" he asked. "Hop in!"

I was so bloody relieved. I put the donuts in the backseat and took my drink. Hardtop had put the coffees on the mat in passenger's seat. I got in and buckled up, the coffees at my feet. I examined the logo on the coffee cups. Java Joe's, which wasn't very far from where Hardtop picked me up. Thank God it wasn't in the same area as their Sweet Marie's. I could _not _have handled carrying thirty-seven donuts, ten hot coffees, and a soda all the way back to headquarters. I don't even want to get into what would happen; picture that for yourself. It wouldn't be pretty, let me tell you. Let's just say I'd be begging a customer to let me borrow a cell phone, so I could call headquarters and beg to be picked up.

"When we get back to headquarters, Hardtop," I said, "remind me to kick the crap out of Roughneck. Then, persuade the judge that it was self-defense, because he made me do something really outrageous."

But when we returned to headquarters, we were greeted by the sounds of Barricade crying, "Oh my God" over and over again. He came out into the desk area with my book. Hardtop and I put the donuts and coffees on his desk. Just then, Barricade announced, "Everyone, I'd like you to turn to page 160 in your books." All the other C.O.P.S. were flipping to that page, and Barricade sounded like a distressed English teacher as he read aloud a passage he had found.

_Johnny stripped off his underwear and stepped into the shower to join Eliza, amazed by the perkiness of her double-D breasts. Those breasts and his pectorals were pressed together as they were body to body, and it wasn't long before they were kissing each other all over, pawing at one another. Johnny made the water hotter, and they were soon in a kneeling-to-lying position, as he was sucking on her chest, and biting every other inch of her like only a junkyard dog can._

_She was grabbing onto his biceps and shoulders, feeling all the strength and muscle she could. He had stuck himself into her, and was growling and barking in her ear._

"_Oh, Johnny!" she screamed. "Oh, Johnny, you animal! I love it when you bark and growl at me like that. Oh, you're so goddamn sexy!" It was clear to her why everyone called Johnny Willis "the Junkyard Dog," and why every other beautiful woman in the city lusted after him._

_The water turned cold now, and Johnny and Eliza were still lying on the shower floor, engaged in their delightful sexual passion, as the water continued to soak them. But after a while, she started to feel frigid, and she begged him to let her out. "Please, Johnny!" she cried. "I'm freezing!" Considerate as he was, he took himself out of her, and she left the shower to dry off and get into bed. But he stayed. The cold water only increased his sexual arousal._

_Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, not bothering to dry off, or put his underwear back on. Johnny stared down at his naked, soaked body, determined to go to bed like that tonight. He opened the bathroom door and stood at the doorway, eyeing Eliza, ready to give her more. There she was, lying soundly in his bed._

_He called her name and she sat up, aroused by his nakedness. With a feasting look, he made gigantic steps towards the bed, crawled onto her side, and proceeded to take her nightie off. He was growling at her again, and said, "C'mon, you sexy little bitch. The big pooch wants to play some more."_

Hardtop went over to Barricade, took my book, and read that passage for himself. I could tell how shocked he was when he finished. I looked at the other C.O.P.S. Mirage and Mainframe looked disgusted and ashamed, maybe because they couldn't believe how submissive that girl was. Longarm looked as frozen as a cop-sicle. Neither Bowzer nor Highway said anything; they just opened the donut box and ate one each to console themselves. Doug just took his copy and went to show Bulletproof. (It wasn't rocket surgery; I could tell Bulletproof wasn't going to be pleased.) In fact, it was totally silent except for an angry Mace pounding his fist on his desk.

"Of all the loathsome, despicable, thoughtless things this boy could do…" he started, but I stopped him.

"Chill out, Mace!" I ordered. "I'm sure that Benjamin didn't do that to dishonor this department, or the rest of you!"

At least, I hoped he didn't. I'd read that scene in the interviewing room, (I guess Barricade was there, preparing to question more gang members) before Doug found me. Honestly, I thought it was the most explicit thing I've ever read. Too explicit for a police novel, in fact.

I took my book from Hardtop, sat at Randall's desk and kept reading. I didn't think I'd be hearing anything from anyone until Doug took me home.

* * *

Okay, sorry for the cliffhanger, but again, I had another long chapter. But watch for the explosive (and I mean it)climax next chapter. You can tell howBulletproof andthe C.O.P.S. are going to confront Benjamin at the book signing. Believe me, I can too! Thanks for reading and don't forget to review. I could use more... lol! 


	5. Sex Talk and Confrontation

_**A/N:** Okay, I've been checking the reviews, and I find it disturbing that the only reviews I've gotten so far were from skyefire. NO ONE on this site remembers this cartoon? That's the only logical explanation I can give! It started in 1988, and I know it only last one year, but this was an awesome show! I'd post the link to the only C.O.P.S site on the Internet, except I'd get in trouble with TOS, and be banned for a while as a result. And I don't want that, this is a cool reading and writing site. Anywho, here's number five._

_**P.S.:** This is an edited version of the original. When I read the chapter first posted on herethis morning, I was shocked by the scene where Leslie asks Sundown about the book. Apparently there was a major wordingmistake in Sundown's dialogue that i had overlooked. I fixed it now, and am re-posting this chapter._

_**Disclaimer**: See previous chapters._

_Chapter 5_

The next morning, I started thinking about Bullseye and Sundown. They were the only two C.O.P.S. who got the book, and I'd never heard their thoughts yet. (Well, Highway and Bowzer never told me what _they_ thought of it either, but after what happened at the headquarters last night, I could tell _their _verdicts easily.) I had just finished drying my breakfast dishes. Maybe I could call them now.

I dialed Sundown's apartment first. I let it ring about five times before getting no answer. I shrugged, and dialed Bullseye's place. He answered on the first two rings.

"Bullseye, it's Leslie," I answered confidently. "Listen, I'm calling about my cousin Benjamin's novel. Have you already started it?"

"I've gotten into it, and frankly, I'm ready to throw it out!" he said. "Tell me, Leslie, does your cousin know _nothing_ about what it takes to be a respected police officer?"

"I take it you've gotten to page 160, and read the really raunchy sex scene?" I assumed.

"Not even close, and I don't think I'll be able to make it that far." I heard him grumbling. "It's bad enough that Benjamin Janes drags his readers throughout this whole sob story with Johnny's wife. My God, who even _cares_? I tried reading the second chapter anyway, but that whole funeral scene was just so boring. So I skipped over to Chapter Three. Nope, it's all gone downhill from there. If it isn't battles with criminals, it's just sordid sex. How can a policeman with a body mass like Johnny's be that shallow and desperate when it comes to women?"

"I think it's the _women_ who are shallow and desperate," I suggested. "They may be a little suggestive, but Benjamin gave some mighty detailed physical descriptions of Johnny. Who wouldn't get the impression that he is on-fire hot?"

"That doesn't mean he can have sex with anything that has big breasts. I doubt that Mace acts like this in _his_ off-duty time, and I see a lot of him in Johnny Willis." He paused, then, "By the way, dare I even ask about this raunchy sex scene on page 160?"

I rolled my eyes. "Johnny was doing this chick, Eliza, in the shower of the bathroom that leads to his bedroom. They were on the shower floor, banging on their knees, and guess what Benjamin writes for this action? '_He stuck himself into her,_' and '_He took himself out of her._' That's rather PG for such detailed sex. I mean, Ben is too chicken to use the words 'penis' and 'vagina.' Then, next thing you know, Johnny positions himself above her on his bed and says, '_The big pooch wants to play some more._'"

"'_The big pooch wants to play some more_?'" Bullseye repeated. "For a guy nicknamed 'the Junkyard Dog?' That's so cheesy! And that scene as a whole is completely disrespectful."

"Yet, this is going to make good water cooler talk at the headquarters. Bullseye, you should've seen how pissed off everyone was last night, especially Mace. I nearly jumped when he pounded his desk like that. And I don't usually find myself saying this, but I hope I never see Bulletproof today. He might still be in a terrible mood. Maybe tomorrow, though, when he's hopefully settled down."

"What do _you_ think of Benjamin's book?"

"Well, you might hate me for saying this, but I'm just loving it! I'm more than halfway through it, almost one hundred eighty pages so far. Between the bedroom scenes and the police beat scenes, there's a lot of action in this – once you get past all the weepy stuff, that is. I mean, isn't that what counts in a police novel?"

Bullseye paused again. "You've got a point there, but still, I don't think I can finish this one."

We talked for a little while longer, then I tried calling Sundown again. This time, I let it ring six times. He still wasn't picking up. I swear, he must be among the few people in Empire City who don't have answering machines. So, I went into the living room to read some more, while calling every half hour on the cordless. When I did, I let it ring six or seven times, and Sundown never answered. I was thinking maybe he'd gone to work already. But I'd heard there were some problems with fist-fighting down at this country bar on Weatherby, the Bullring Saloon, and Sundown had been going there on his off-time to watch for troublemakers. So he could be still sleeping, perhaps soundly enough to not hear his phone. Or maybe he didn't have one in his bedroom.

I finally gave up at eleven-thirty. I kept reading until a few minutes before noon. I was almost at two hundred pages. I made myself some soup for lunch. After finishing the dishes, I took some change and rode a bus to Sundown's apartment building.

When I arrived, I walked quickly into the building. I found Sundown's apartment number, 528, and was about to press the intercom button. But a forty-something blonde woman had just came in and opened the door. I took the opportunity and just went inside. _Maybe I'll surprise him_, I thought. I took the elevator to the fifth floor.

The even-numbered apartments were on my right side, so I just looked that way for 528. I found it and rang the doorbell. But as I waited, I started thinking, _Bulletproof and all the others hated it. Do you really think Sundown will be any different?_

Seconds later, the door opened and I saw Sundown. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of jeans. I could tell he had just taken a shower; his hair was combed back and damp. With his browned skin and thick black mustache, he looked just like Uncle Matt does after a terrific tan.

He gave a wry grin and said, "Well, bless my bovine. Leslie Janes has come to see me!"

"Sundown, I tried to reach you all morning," I said as he took me into his apartment. "I never got a chance to see you last night at the headquarters."

"Well, I was on shift yesterday from six in the mornin' 'til six at night," he said. He went into his bedroom to put on a shirt. "Nobody told me you'd be comin' to work to see us. I'd just been down at the Bullring Saloon last night, watchin' out for trouble. I was there 'til two in the mornin' and I woke up just after ten. Decided to eat out for breakfast, and do some grocery shoppin', and run a few other errands. That's probably why you kept missin' me."

"Six to six yesterday," I repeated. "So I take you were at the briefing meeting with my cousin Benjamin there."

"Oh, yeah." Sundown poured a cup of black coffee and poured one for me, too. "Aquayouth was introducin' all of us to Benjamin before the briefin' even started. Real nice young gentleman, I saw. And such a mannerly speaker, too. Makes me wonder how a boy like him could write such a lousy book."

Do you really think I was surprised to hear that? "That's what everyone else said," I replied. "What did you find wrong with it?"

"Well, I was immediately turned off by the openin' paragraphs," he said, sipping his coffee. "I studied _Gone With the Wind_ when I minored in literature in college. If I didn't know better, I'd say your cousin Benjamin was tryin' to rip off Margaret Mitchell's writin' style. If this book ever gets to Atlanta, and everyone there reads it, I reckon they'll see Johnny Willis as somethin' more than a testosteroned Scarlett O'Hara. Nobody's gonna buy it then."

"What did you think of his love life?" I asked.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be jokin' me. That man's a disgraceful bed-hopper. If this had been set back in the West, he'd be seen as a disgrace to lawmen everywhere. I admit, I'm somethin' of a ladykiller myself. My God, you should see all the women who try to pick me up when I'm at the Bullring. But I was brought up to be a gentleman, and learned how to court ladies properly. Unless it's the women usin' Johnny for sex, he should be ashamed of himself. I feel so sorry for his kids."

"Hey, the bed-hopping is just a part of who he is," I said. "I'll bet you would, too, if you were built like a pro wrestler like he is." I slapped his arm a little. "Admit it, Sundown, you would."

"Uh-uh!" he replied, taking another sip. "The most I'd do is let her take my shirt off, but that's it. I don't do no mattress mambo unless I know it's love, and not just lust. Johnny could use some lessons from some of us C.O.P.S. about how to respect women."

"If you say so," I replied. "But I'm actually enjoying it. I've never read a police story so interestingly provocative. You know, I was always told that fire fighters were actually sexier than policemen. If they could read this book, they'd be proven wrong." I drank more coffee. "In fact, I just have a little over a hundred pages left to go. I could even be done in time for the signing."

"Won't that make Benjamin proud?" Sundown chuckled. "That you've read every word of it before you saw him again? It's just a shame that you won't be sayin' that about Bulletproof and the rest of us."

I stayed at the apartment for a little while longer. At quarter to two, I told Sundown I had to leave. "If Doug and Terri wake up and can't find me, they'll definitely be calling the headquarters, wondering where I am," I told him. "I really don't want to face their wrath." He smiled and offered to drive me home. I gladly accepted.

* * *

Doug didn't have to work today and the next day. He spent those two days reading – or should I say, _struggling_ to read – Benjamin's book. I could tell he was really put off by the overly graphic shower scene that all the C.O.P.S. would be talking about. It was three in the afternoon, and Doug had just woken up. It looked like he was forcing himself to read the book. I'd glance over from my own reading to see him flipping through it, frowning. Was he even _trying_ to comprehend the plot, I wondered. He was going through it pretty fast – faster than me, in fact.

But I could tell what was bothering him. I put my book down and said, "Doug, what exactly is wrong with Ben's book? Is it the way he put out the plot? Look, I know it's a bit sexy, but…"

He didn't let me finish. He put his copy on his lap, with his hand inside to mark his place. "Leslie, who the hell does Benjamin think he is?" he asked. "He grew up in a long-standing family of law enforcers, yet he does not respect the profession at all. So what if cops and fire fighters tend to _look_ sexy? That doesn't make law enforcement and fire fighting the sexiest careers in the world. Randall and I became cops because we watched our father and uncles in action, it was family tradition, and most of all, we wanted to make a difference in our community. Not to put down Terri, but I sure as hell didn't become a cop to score chicks."

"Why don't you tell him that?" I asked.

"I'm going to." He started for the phone, but I stopped him.

"He has a lot of things to do between now and Saturday afternoon," I said. "Look, I'm sure Bulletproof will recruit some of his team to come down to Empire Bookstore then to confront Ben. Sign yourself up. I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing what you have to say in front of a crowd of book lovers."

He smiled. "Now there's an idea." He went back to his book and kept speed reading.

* * *

The next afternoon, Randall picked me up and took me to the headquarters. On the way there, I asked, "So, did anyone ever tell you about that shower scene that had everyone enraged?"

"Doug woke me in the middle of the night to tell me," he answered. "I flipped to that page and read it all over, including that very-detailed romp in his bed afterwards. I could tell why everybody was enraged. I was pretty shocked myself."

"How were Bulletproof and the others? Did you go to work at all yesterday? Did you see them?"

"I could tell _Bulletproof_ was pissed. I saw him reading the book as if it was some chore and obligation. So were all the others with their books. I asked Bulletproof what was wrong, and he told me he couldn't believe Benjamin was our cousin, and how could he bring down such an honorable profession like law enforcement, and so on. I've never seen him ramble on like that in my life. The other C.O.P.S. wouldn't talk to me about Ben, just how disgusting they thought the book was, Mace especially."

I started having some disturbing thoughts. "If that's true, and given the amount of sex in it, I wonder if…" I shook my head. "Nah, that's impossible. I don't think Benjamin remembered anyone else at that briefing, except for Bulletproof. And you and Doug are nothing like that with your women."

At the headquarters, we saw Checkpoint, Nightstick and Taser standing outside the building. I hit myself on my forehead; I hadn't heard from them all week. Damn, I forgot to mention them when Benjamin was autographing all those books for me. They were probably mad at me for that. Good thing Inferno, Airwave and A.P.E.S. were on vacation, or else they would've been mad, too.

As soon as I got out of the car, I ran up to them and said, "Checkpoint! Nightstick! Taser! Guys, I'm so sorry you never got a copy of Benjamin's book."

"That's quite all right, Leslie," Checkpoint said. "Judging by what we heard, and what's going on in there, we're kind of glad we _didn't_ get one."

"What do you mean, 'what's going on in there?'" But I was hearing noise from inside. I didn't stick around for an explanation. We just ran into the building. Randall and I were shocked by what we witnessed.

I didn't know how much – or how little – work was getting done, but I saw Mace, Hardtop, Bowzer, Barricade and Sundown standing in a small circle, engaged in a disagreeable argument that was very frank.

They were fighting over whose life Benjamin wrote about.

"Let me list off all these descriptions!" Mace boomed. "Muscular arms, chest and legs! Marble abdominals and thighs! An 'outie' belly button – _my _belly button's an outie! Do you want me to take off my shirt and show you?! Oxen shoulders and back! Chiseled rear! Broad face, wide chin, large mouth, big teeth! Dark glasses and a trucker cap! The only thing that's different is day-to-day clothes! Do you need a picture? Benjamin Janes wrote his book about me! He characterized Johnny Willis around _me_! I can prove that!"

"Bullcrap, Mace!" Bowzer spat. "Johnny's eyes are blue; yours are dark brown! And your hair is a lighter brown than his, _plus_ his hair is in a crew-cut. Not only is _your_ hair longer, but it's also straight-to-wavy!"

"And who are you to talk, Bowzer?" Sundown blasted. "It just can't be you Benjamin wrote about. You're about as skinny as a pole and flat as a flapjack!" He turned to Mace. "Mace, you may _look_ like Johnny 'the Junkyard Dog' Willis, but can you pick up women like he can? Same with you, Bowzer, when was the last time _you_ picked up a lady? You should see all the women that have been swarming to me at the Bullring Saloon! I'm the lady-killer here; Ben Janes wrote that book about me!"

"Hey, I'm pretty damn attractive and athletic myself!" Barricade interjected. "I could have any woman in my age bracket! He _could_ have written that book about me."

"Right, Barricade," Hardtop mused. "Name your last or current girlfriend. Everyone knows it's about _my_ life. Hey, I may not think of Johnny as a likeable character, but everyone knows I share his charisma."

"What are you even _doing_ in this, Hardtop?!" Mace blasted. "You don't even _look_ like the type of man to sleep with every woman in the city! And you are a little _boy_ compared to Johnny Willis!"

Then, it looked as if Hardtop and Mace were poised to beat each other up, so Bulletproof, Randall and I rushed in to stop them from fighting, and to cease the whole argument.

"What does it matter whose life Benjamin Janes wrote about?" Bulletproof asked. He flashed his book all around the group. "The point is this book is amoral, disgusting and disrespectful to the police service. It's vital that Benjamin Janes knows this at the Empire Bookstore tomorrow."

I opened my book and read what Benjamin wrote in his autograph to me. I remembered he had written the same thing in all the others. I was starting to see a connection. I was just wondering if I should be the one to tell him.

* * *

I managed to finish the book the morning of the signing. I was pretty satisfied with the ending. Johnny ended up falling in love with a single mother whose son was the same age as his younger son, Hunter. Benjamin had made the bond between Johnny and this new kid really believable, like a good romance novel themed around father and son. I've never seen anything like that. I figured that if anything, Bulletproof and the C.O.P.S. should give Benjamin credit for this kind of originality.

As I was finishing, I overheard Doug talking with Randall on the phone. He was informing him of a briefing to be held before the book signing. Randall must have refused, because I heard Doug grumbling and sighing. Then, he must have asked to speak with me, because Doug was handing the phone to me.

"Leslie," Randall said, "I'm coming to pick you up at around two o'clock. Is that all right? I don't think you and I should attend the briefing meeting at C.O.P.S. headquarters. I have a good idea what will happen there. I think maybe you and me should let Ben down easy before Bulletproof and his cohorts make everything explode."

I nodded. "Sounds like a good plan to me. See you then."

Doug left around fifteen minutes before Randall came. Randall and I arrived at Empire Bookstore in about twenty minutes. When we did, we saw a lot of vehicles in the parking lot. Thank God there were a few spots left. We parked about thirty feet from the entrance doors. From the distance, I could see the promotional posters in the window, complete with Benjamin's black and white photograph. I thought he looked good in black and white. Randall was looking around at all the parking.

"Wow, it seems like everyone is eager to buy _Passions of the Junkyard Dog_," he commented. "I guess it's gotten a lot of media buzz these past three days."

Inside the store, we searched for Benjamin and his little display. It was in the middle of the store, in the wide space between all the racks of books. We saw six people there, reading his book, getting autographs, having conversations. I smiled and called his name, and he spotted us and smiled back.

We walked up to the display and hugged hello. "I'm so glad you guys could come," Benjamin said.

"Hey, we can't disappoint our favorite uncle's only child," I replied.

"Did you manage to finish it?" he asked.

"I did," I said, "and I loved it. This writing was tight and crisp during Johnny's on-duty scenes, and sensual and deep in the off-duty scenes. It was very dramatic throughout. Speaking of which, I guess it won't surprise you that I already see this going to the big screen in a few years. I'll talk to my director about this when he gets back from San Francisco. Maybe once he reads it, he'll seek the approval of a movie studio for another directorial project."

"That's wonderful." Benjamin turned to Randall. "Et tu, cousin?"

"I'm about two-thirds through it," Randall said. "I would've finished already, but police work and other affairs didn't allow it. And speaking of police, I expect Bulletproof and company to come here any minute now. They're at the headquarters right now, holding an emergency briefing about this."

Benjamin looked concerned. "Was there anything wrong with it?"

"Well, the sex scenes you had in there were a bit on the raunchy side, and I thought Johnny's off-duty behavior was entirely unprofessional. It's nice that you have him leaving his work at the office, and going down that route that transforms him from Mighty Mouse to Mickey Mouse, and all that. But don't you know that police officers are supposed to practice discretion when they're not working the beat? Same with fire fighters when they're not working with an elite fire unit."

Benjamin was a bit offended. "Hey, I made sure all of Johnny's intimacies were private!"

"Well, my colleagues are still upset about it. They're extremely concerned about that one shower scene in Chapter Nine, I think it was. They were disgusted by all its graphic details. Ben, I'd brace myself if I were you."

We talked for a few more minutes, then we saw Bulletproof's arrival. He was accompanied by Doug, Mace, Longarm, Hardtop, Barricade and Sundown. I guessed everyone else was too ashamed to come. Sundown was carrying a big cardboard box.

"Benjamin Janes!" Bulletproof bellowed. Suddenly, everyone in the bookstore got quiet. He and his group marched up to us. Surprisingly, Benjamin looked happy to see them, but I didn't believe that. It was obviously self-forced. I could tell he was nervous.

"Bulletproof, everyone!" he said. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"Oh, we wouldn't miss this for all the tequila in Mexico," Sundown commented.

"Did you and everyone else read my book?" Benjamin asked.

"Every word," Bulletproof answered.

What a bullcrap exaggeration! I _know_ most of them did not read the second chapter, and they were probably too disgusted with it to finish it. Anyone who did obviously had attitudes that said, "Whatever!"

Benjamin clasped his hands together in gleeful curiosity. "Well, what did you think?"

"Well, we were sure foolish and stupid to trust you!" Bulletproof spat. "All those kind words you said to us about how you respected the profession of law enforcement were obviously a load of crap! You had no right to smear the honorable reputation that police work brings!"

"What are you talking about?" Benjamin cried.

"Oh, come on, Janes!" Hardtop said. "You wrote about a slutty male cop whose landed on his back more times than a professional wrestler! Do you _really_ think contemporary men aspire to join the police force in hopes of getting laid?! That's obviously what you want your readers to believe! You've disgraced us all! Thank you!"

"I talked to my dad, a former law enforcer, about your book!" Longarm said. "I told him everything about Johnny Willis. I even invited him here, but he declined, saying he's embarrassed that you would treat police like playthings. It's in my family just as much as it is in yours, and you make it sound dirty! _How dare you?! _I just know I'm never letting my son read this."

"And another thing, whose life did you decide to rip off for profit?!" Mace bellowed. "'Cause I saw a lot of me in Johnny Willis' physical traits. And here you are writing your book, stretching and twisting facts around so that a profession so honorable and respectable becomes such seedy, tawdry trash!" He pounded his fist on the table. "I _EARNED_ MY RANK OF SERGEANT BY _HARD WORK_!"

"Benjamin, remember that Thanksgiving when Dad screamed at you for wanting to be a writer in the first place?" Doug asked. "What would he say if he were still alive to read this? He'd disown you and cut you from his will, that's what. Both he and Grandpa Janes would roll in their graves over this." He shook his head. "And for once in my life, I'm ashamed that you're my cousin."

"And here's my final word," Bulletproof concluded. "_Passions of the Junkyard Dog_ is nothing more than a vulgar display of perverted sex acts that are utter and complete _filth_!" He slammed his copy on the table at the last word, then Sundown opened the box and dumped the rest. Doug dropped his copy, then they all left.

When they were all gone, the rest of customers were literally attacking the display, snatching up all the copies, some taking even two or three. I held my copy tightly so no one would take it. At least all the regular citizens would be buying it.

* * *

**A/N**: I know I didn't add this the first time around, but it was late and I needed my sleep. Anyway, concluding chapter coming soon. Can Leslie get his brothers and the C.O.P.S.to forgive Benjamin? Tune in next chapter (LOL) and please read and review.


	6. Benjamin Explains It All

**A/N: **Ok, heads up, C.O.P.S. fans! My sixth and final chapter of my (and this sub-category's) very first ficcie. As soon as this is up, the first thing I'll do is convert this into present tense (been thinking about that lately) and then e-mail it to the very fansite that helped me get back into the cartoon after a long absense (they're looking for fanfics too, hope this doesn't go against the TOS.) Sorry if I've annoyedanyone by talking about that lately, but if it weren't for that site, thisproject would not have been possible, nor would this sub-category be on this site. If youdon't have thesite's address and you want it so bad, please e-mail me. My addy's in my personal file. Well, enough chatter. On with the conclusion of..... A NOVEL DISHONOR.

* * *

_Chapter 6_

Randall asked if I wanted to spend tonight at his house. I agreed. After all, if Doug was this angry about Benjamin's book, I really didn't want to make it even worse by even mentioning either one to his face, or in his presence. I thought about Terri. She hadn't seen the book yet, I believed. Doug would probably tell her bad things about it, and all this stuff about Benjamin being an alleged traitor to the family, so she wouldn't want to. It was probably best to avoid him entirely until he calmed down.

Just as I got settled in the house that evening, my cell phone rang. It was Jill calling. "I just spoke with the director," she said. She sounded very solemn. "His mother passed away in San Francisco twenty minutes ago. He and his whole family are taking this very hard."

I was saddened to hear this, but I had bigger problems to deal with right now. What was I going to do with Benjamin and a certain elite police force that was angry with him? I knew Doug had to apologize to Benjamin before he left Empire City. But what could I do about this?

Jill was waiting for a reply. "Leslie? Leslie, are you still there?"

A bit startled, I stopped daydreaming and quickly said, "Jill? Oh, Jill, I'm so sorry, I was thinking about something else. See, my cousin had this book signing party today; it was a disaster. Doug and all his friends hated his book, they're all pissed at him, and I want to see them all make up before Benjamin leaves. But please, give that director my condolences, and tell him I want to discuss some business with him when he gets back. It's about Benjamin's book. I'll call Molly to tell her right away." I said goodbye, hung up, and dialed Molly's place.

I told her about the director's mother, and how the book signing went. When I hung up, I sighed, and started thinking about Benjamin again. I was sure he wanted an apology from everyone just as much as I did. I wondered what he was doing at this moment, locked in his hotel room at the Manifesta, refusing to leave it tonight. Crying on his bed pillows, perhaps? Plotting revenge against Doug and Bulletproof? Dialing Doug's house endlessly in a desperate attempt to make up?

Whatever he was doing, I concluded that Doug, Bulletproof and the C.O.P.S. had no right to humiliate Benjamin the way they did. I had to see if he was all right. I dialed his hotel and asked to be put through his room.

After a few minutes, I heard Benjamin's voice. "Hello?"

"Ben! Hi, this is Leslie calling," I said. "Listen, I just want to apologize on behalf of the C.O.P.S. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I am," he replied. "God, I can't believe what they all said to me. They could have told me that they didn't like it, and that I should have toned down the sex scenes. They didn't have to belittle me like that in public. That was embarrassing." He paused. "At least Randall's criticism was constructive."

"Well, again, I just want to apologize…"

"Don't bother, Leslie. The people I want to hear apologies from are the C.O.P.S. Especially Roughhead, or whatever Doug's code name is."

"Roughneck," I corrected. "Doug's code name is Roughneck." Although _Roughhead_ sounded a little more appropriate at the time.

"That's why I called the airport to cancel my flight to Chicago tomorrow, and told my publisher that I'm putting off the rest of my book tour until further notice. I'm not leaving Empire City without hearing Doug and your cop friends say they're sorry."

I was about to say something when I heard a beep. My call waiting. I put Benjamin on hold and pushed a button to take the other call. "Hello?"

"Leslie, it's Doug," the voice said. "Where are you?"

"Hi, Doug," I said. "I'm just hanging out with Randall for the night. You caught me in the middle of a call. I'm talking to Benjamin."

"Benjamin…" he mused.

"Oh, Doug, stop it. He's our cousin."

"No! Our cousin has turned into a thoughtless, self-absorbed blowhard with no regard for family or tradition."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, Ben's going to stay in Empire City until you, Bulletproof and everyone else apologizes for what happened this afternoon. Hardtop, Mace and Longarm especially, because of their accusations."

"Well, Benjamin might as well set up house at the far end of the city, because no way is he getting an apology," Doug insisted. "If anything, _he_ should be apologizing to _us _for making police work look like payless prostitution. And he should be on his knees, begging, for his attempt to profit from this."

I pressed the call waiting button before I could get into an argument, and talked to Benjamin.

"Guess what, Benjamin," I told him. "That was Doug I just talked to. He says he and the others are ready to say they're sorry."

"Excellent," he replied. "Now, do you know who's going to be on shift tomorrow afternoon?"

"Doug definitely should be," I said. "He had yesterday and Thursday off, and today was supposed to be his day off, too, I believe. I think he stayed at work voluntarily because he didn't feel like going only to confront you, and then go home."

"Great, so tomorrow afternoon would be perfect. How about two?"

"All right, so are you going to pick me up at the hotel, or shall we meet at the headquarters?"

Suddenly, Randall walked up to me and made a gesture, telling me to hand him my cell. "Actually, why don't you discuss it with Randall?" I offered. "He would like to talk to you." I said goodbye to him, and surrendered my cell to my brother.

* * *

Randall's shift began at noon the next day. On our way to the headquarters, we picked up Benjamin at the hotel. When we got inside, we surprisingly noticed the desk area totally empty. Not a single police officer to be seen. Even Mainframe, who was usually stoked out at the crime computer, was not in her seat.

"That's funny," I said. "Mainframe's _supposed_ to be looking out for more criminal activity to report. Big Boss must have gotten out of jail already. She's probably gone to join the others on a big manhunt."

"They must have broken out during the night," Randall suggested. "Still, she might have gone to get some coffee."

"I'll go look for her," I volunteered.

I searched the whole headquarters over for Mainframe. She couldn't be in the briefing room, because Bulletproof already did the roll call and explained some plan to catch Big Boss, a plan I never knew about. _I am their friend,_ I thought. _Why don't they clue me in on their major crime-busting activities?_ She wasn't in the coffee room – which, by the way, had messy counter tops with sticky coffee stains that had to be at _least_ three days old.

"Ugh, who's been neglecting their clean-up duties?" I wondered. "I'll have to give those C.O.P.S. a good talking to when they get back."

I kept looking for Mainframe. The interviewing room was empty. I even went into the women's washroom, thinking she'd be there. I called her name numerous times, and got no response. I didn't bother looking in any of the johns; what if she was doing some private business? Still, why wouldn't she answer me? So I called her name louder. Nothing. I walked out, disgusted.

"She must be out with everyone else," I said to myself as I walked back to my brother and cousin. But just as I saw them, I heard Randall ending a conversation on my cell phone.

"Leslie, I have to meet Bulletproof over at Bank of New Buffalo," he said. "They need some more backup. It's Big Boss and his whole group if I know this. Stay here with Benjamin, please?" He left, and I turned to Benjamin. He was sitting in Mainframe's computer chair.

"Did Randall tell you to sit there?" I asked. "Mainframe's not going to like you sitting at her computer. In fact, I don't think the C.O.P.S. are even going to like you being here."

"Tough crap!" he spat back. "Leslie, I meant what I said last night. I came here for an apology, and I'm not leaving here until I get one."

"If you say so." I sat down at the nearest desk. Twenty minutes later, Bulletproof and everyone else came back, including Doug and Randall. When they saw Benjamin at the crime computer, Randall quickly ran up to protect him.

But to my surprise, nobody pulled him out of Mainframe's chair. Nobody even grabbed his hand. Instead, they all folded their arms and glared at him.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Benjamin Janes, back to gather more unbelievable crap about my reputable team of law enforcers," Bulletproof said.

Benjamin sneered, "Oh, you're a riot, Bulletproof."

"What do you want, Benjamin?" Doug snarled.

"Apologies from each of you, for one!" Benjamin insisted.

"Well, Bullseye and I just got back from patrol in our Air Raid helicopter," Mirage informed him, "and I, for one, did not see pigs flying."

"Neither did I," Bullseye added.

"Well, I'm not leaving this place without an apology." Benjamin stood and forced everyone to step back. "You had no right to make me look bad at the book signing yesterday."

"_We_ made you look bad?" Mace boomed. "Listen, buster, _you_ had no right to use my life – or whoever else's life you used, for your book!"

"Furthermore," Bulletproof added, "you also had no right to take law enforcement as a whole, and make it read like it's some sort of sex service!"

Benjamin looked poised to slap him, but I hoped he wouldn't. He didn't; he just said, "Man, Leslie always told me you were tough and dedicated officers, but he never said you were so egotistical about it!"

He took a forced breath. "I think there are some things you all need to know. One, I based Johnny 'the Junkyard Dog' Willis around my father!"

"What?!" all the C.O.P.S. cried at once.

"Uncle Matt?" Doug asked, exasperated. "But, Ben, he's just as dedicated to his police and community work as Dad was. You know that."

"Yeah, well, unlike Uncle Francis, my Dad always loosened up his police hardness when he got home," Benjamin explained. "And he still does. Just like Johnny, he's a rough and tough SOB when he's working the streets, but turns into a soft and snuggly teddy bear when he's not."

"Our Dad always criticized yours for that," Doug said.

"Well, my Dad's a firm believer that leaving your work at the office is the key to a successful police marriage and family," Benjamin replied. "He wasn't all police-like when he was spending time with me; he was kind and loving. We did everything together, my father and me, even go to his youth center. Everyone says he's the coolest athletics coach they've known."

All right, fine," Mace said, "but you still haven't told us the story behind the big body mass and promiscuous love life."

"The body thing was also inspired by my father," Benjamin said. "You want to know what everyone nicknames him back in Miami? 'The Macho Moose Man.' You see, like Johnny, Dad loves to show off his body. He _still _does, and he's fifty-one damn years old! During his off-duty time, whenever he's outside, he never wears a shirt, even in the middle of January. He _loves_ it when a beautiful girl rips off his shirt. He's also known to do that before he gets into bed, and at the beach or swimming pool. Also, you know how I know when he plans to work in the yard or garage? He'll parade around the house shirtless that day until the job is done. Believe me, I've heard that from women who were lucky enough to see it all, including my own mother."

He sat back down in Mainframe's chair. "Speaking of lucky women, Dad has had lots over the past twenty years. They've been going wild on him since my mother died. Doug, do you and Randall think Leslie and I were the only ones who noticed this? Do you think I minded this? _Should_ I have minded it? No, because I knew my father was so gorgeous-looking, the sexiest man in American law enforcement. He takes part in those 'sexy blue collar hunk' contests that local nightclubs hold every year, and he'd come out in the finals every time, though he didn't always win. Plenty of pretty Miami ladies always want to sleep with my Dad – and they do. That's exactly how I created Johnny Willis – to take after my father."

It was silent for a few moments. I was grateful when Benjamin finished his speech. I'd been watching him, Doug and Randall the whole time. If either of them started telling Bulletproof and the others that story about how I poked Uncle Matt in his belly button, I'd murder them.

Suddenly, Longarm commented, "Benjamin, your father is an oversexed manwhore." Randall quickly elbowed him in the stomach.

"What's the other thing you wanted to say?" Bullseye asked.

"I never intended to sexualize law enforcement with my book," Benjamin said. "That was not why I wrote it. Otherwise, I'd have had Johnny sleep with the female cops, too. My father would not have liked that. He showed more respect for his work than that. I know this."

"Ok, so if your book was based around your father," Hardtop said, "then how do you explain that inscription you wrote in all our books? How we've been your inspiration forever and always?"

"Oh, I write that to everyone," Benjamin answered. "I wrote that in all the yearbooks when I was graduating high school. Everyone else wrote the same things, that one line was mine. Why, when Leslie mentioned all _your_ names, the only one I remembered was Bulletproof, and that was when we buried Uncle Francis."

Bulletproof's followers were insulted. "Hey, _I_ remember being at Francis Janes' funeral service!" Longarm said.

"So was I," Barricade said.

"Me too," Mace added.

"So were we!" everyone else said, except for Doug, Randall and Bulletproof.

"Well, excuse me for being so ignorant," Benjamin replied, "but except for Bulletproof, I hardly remember talking to any of you C.O.P.S. at the burial supper that day."

"Don't worry about it, Ben," Randall said. "That was nine years ago. I don't think you would remember all that well."

Benjamin looked at everyone. "Listen, I don't want us going out like this, you guys not talking to me. Especially you, Roughneck and Aquayouth." _Good, he remembered to use their code names_, I thought. "As for the rest of you, Leslie always tells me how caring and considerate you are. I really believed that when I first came to these headquarters a few days ago. And I don't know if you know this, but I really want to be friends with you, just like Leslie is. You do really good police work, and I want you to know that I have a lot of respect for what you do. My father always taught me that. That's what got me writing police-themed fiction in the first place."

Benjamin, with words like that," Bulletproof said, "I think you'll be able to start over with us."

"Thank you." Then, they all got together for a group hug. I turned away for a few seconds. I've always hated group hugs. They're ten times sappier than those annoying shows for toddlers, too much sap for me.

When it was over, Benjamin said, "I'll call the airport to schedule a flight for tomorrow. I think I'll spend one more day in Empire City – with you guys."

"That'd be great," Doug said. "Maybe then you can get to know the C.O.P.S. a little better."

"Just promise us one thing," Mirage said. "On your next project, you'll let us all read and critique your writing, chapter by chapter."

"Trust us, we've done hundreds of police reports," Doug added. "We know some things about writing ourselves."

Benjamin smiled. "That's a deal."

I was smiling, too. "Well, _that_ baby's been put to bed," I declared. I went to get my cell phone. "Who hasn't had lunch yet? I'll order us some pizza."

* * *

So, what do you all think? Not bad for my first fanfic, eh? Big shout-out to **skyefire**, who has been the ONLY ONE so far to read and review. I hope this inspires you to put a C.O.P.S. ficcie of your own on here. (I'd love to see something from you all right?) And I already have some ideas for TMNT and BMFM fics, so I'll post here again sometime. Thank you for making me feel welcome. :>) 


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